My Parents Died Before Graduation and I Thought No One Would Be There for Me — Then Two Hands Covered My Eyes From Behind

Page after page of my cramped handwriting.

Every dollar in, every dollar out.

Every prescription with its date and its cost.

Every one of Evelyn’s appointments, logged and checked off.

A whole household held together in a boy’s careful columns.

“You did all of this,” he said, not quite looking up, his voice gone strange.

“While you were finishing your senior year.

You did all of this.”